DICK FOLLOWED ME INSIDE. It was easy to follow the police cruiser to this warehouse. The hard part was holding myself together. I could feel it still—the insatiable urge to scream. Only a handful of times had I felt such a thing in my life.

I certainly had not expected to feel it now. To stay calm, I focused my breathing, following the heat in my chest in the direction it intensified. "Hey, I'm the one with the gun here," Dick spoke quietly, as we reached a blind corner.

"And i'm the one about the level the block," I said, over my shoulder. "If I tell you to run, you listen."

Cautious but moving quickly, I turned the corner and kept walking, hearing a heavy sigh from Dick behind me. I wasn't trying to be the leader—my body chose that role for me. There was no way I could stand going any slower.

I took two more steps before a muffled scream echoed out through the building. There'd been no indication that Rachel was going to die, but that did not stop the rush of adrenaline pouring into my veins as the heat in my chest turned sharp.

It felt almost as though there was a knife floating around freely in my chest cavity. It was painful, though it was more alarming than anything. I started walking faster, hopping into a light jog, and I heard Dick call out behind me.

My consciousness didn't register what exactly he'd said. I was too focused. The feelings inside me were physically pushing me along, around another corner and across a small room to a closed door.

I could feel it—she was on the other side. Carefully, I placed my hand on the door. Only two souls brought warmth to my fingertips. One was Rachel's and the other belonged to a much older male. Her captor, I knew.

"Dammit, Anna!"

Dick whisper-yelled at me angrily, hurrying up beside me at the door. I didn't acknowledge his annoyance, his anger, or his concern. My body was attuned to the beings on the other side of the door, too much so to be bothered.

The older male had changed positions, and my eyebrows knitted as I focused to keep my connection, trying to figure out where he was moving to. My fingertips began to vibrate with warmth and electricity, and I knew—he was directly on the other side of the door.

I opened my mouth to speak, to tell Dick of my findings, when something cut me off entirely. "Savannah!" it was Rachel's voice. I'd never heard her speak before, but I didn't need to. Somehow, I knew. Somehow, I could feel the desperation, the fear in every pull of her vocal chords.

Without much hesitation—or thought, really—I took two steps back, hiked up my leg, then thrusted my heel into the door. The door burst open, slamming into the back of the man standing behind it. He was shoved forward several steps, and he turned quickly to see behind him.

I took a quick step inside the room, to which the man swung the bloody dagger he held right at my head-level. There was no way this man was going to out battle me using a knife. Knives were my thing. Ducking, I easily missed the blade.

Coming back up, I twisted as I pulled the knives from my jacket sleeves, slicing the back of the man's arm—the arm holding his own knife. It was a quick move I'd learned long ago that typically disarmed whomever I used it on.

This man wasn't quite disarmed, but I fixed that in kicking the heel of my boot into the back of his knee, dropping him down a foot. My next movements were instinct, they were muscle memory. But, regardless, it was something I knew I would regret.

I felt the regret before I'd even done it. Too much of my blood pulsed in my ears to stop myself, though. I'd ventured too far into the realm of my abilities to be pulled out of it before I sank both my blades into the man's back.

There was a hollow sound as the metal carved through his flesh, followed by his cry of pain. They were in for a quick pause before I gave them a yank, pulling them back out, causing the man to fall flat on his face on the wooden floor of the warehouse.

My chest heaved, breathing heavily from the sudden excitement of a fight. I hadn't killed a man in almost two years. But that record would be washed clean with this man's blood the moment his heart stopped. It didn't sink in, what I'd done—not until I met Dick's gaze.

His eyes were wide, features horror-stricken as he stood there frozen, still holding his handgun in a ready position—unable to move it. A sniffling sound, a scuffle from behind was the only thing that could pull me from my thoughts.

I twisted to see the source of the sounds, and my eyes landed on Rachel. She was tied to a chair near the back of the room, struggling against her restraints, and crying. "Maybe you should..." I trailed off, turning back to Dick with a nod in Rachel's direction.

He nodded a little, eyes downcast as he hurried around me to free Rachel. My eyes lowered to look over my knives. The silver metal of both blades was covered in dark red. Some of it was smeared on the skin of my hands as well.

It only further became clear with the passing of the seconds, coming to me in a dizzying nausea as my heart sank all the way to the soles of my feet. The horror in Dick's eyes was burned into my eyelids.

Just another thing on my mind to bring me guilt. Dick was consoling Rachel, reassuring her of her safety as I wiped my knives off on the back of the dead man's jacket and stowed them away up my sleeves.

No, I felt no sympathy for the dead man. Any guilt I felt from his death had nothing to do with him at all and everything to do with the invisible rules I'd broken. The rules Dick set forth to ensure I didn't revert to merciless killings.

"Savannah?"

A mopey voice came from behind me, and I knew it to be Rachel's. I turned my head at the sound of my name, softly raising a brow, as my eyes landed on the girl I'd just killed for. She was pulling away from Dick, sitting back to look at me past her wet cheeks.

With a shift of my feet, I turned around to face her fully. "Was this guy trying to kill you because you clawed your way into his head, too?" I asked her, cold and vaguely bitter.

She stammered nervously through her reply, "I didn't- I...you-"

"Just stay out of my head," I narrowed my expression in irritation, before moving my eyes to Dick's face. "We need to move. Sooner rather than later."

Dick nodded once, visibly in thought, and he stood quickly. He helped Rachel to her feet—and the whole time her eyes stayed on me. Her irises were curious, confused, and concerned all at once. I could feel it in my chest.

There were so many things she wanted to say but the words didn't come out fast enough. That, and I was not as receptive as she most likely anticipated. Dick took steps toward me, lowering his voice as he spoke, "We'll take her back the apartment, change cars. I know some people we can hide out with."

"You're seriously considering leaving town with her?" I questioned, as he came to stand in front of me.

He gave me a confused expression, "Anna, she's just a kid. We can't leave her."

"Yes, and what's your plan for the long-term?"

"We'll cross that bridge when we get there."

"In other words, you have no idea what you're going to do—you're just going to do it," I tilted my head in an expression. Dick sighed heavily through his nose, giving me a slightly annoyed look. I sidestepped to see around him, ignoring him altogether. "Come on, we're going somewhere safe."

Rachel quickly but hesitantly followed as I turned and started walking back out of the building. It was ridiculous to not think anything through, to simply jump in and expect no later consequence. Protecting this girl and getting her out of the city was the right thing to do.

Doing it without a plan, however, was not smart. I hadn't felt secure in winging-it for a long time. Everything needed to be planned—especially with the final name on my list getting wind of Beverly's existence.

We made it outside to Dick's vehicle. Rachel was put in the back, with Dick driving, and I in the passenger seat. As soon as I was sat down and the door was closed, I felt a warm density in the center of my chest cavity.

It was familiar—too familiar. The feeling swirled with irritation once I'd recognized what it was. Dick was pulling away from the curb when I twisted in my seat, looking at Rachel through the space between the front row. "Stop it," I hissed.

Her eyes widened a little in surprise of my harsh tone, "...I'm not doing anything."

"Yes, you are—I can feel it."

"Feel what?" Dick questioned, glancing between me and the road in confusion. "What aren't you telling me?"

I sat straight forward in my seat again, dropping back against the chair with an exhale, "I get this feeling in my chest—it happens when I get around her. That's how I knew where she was."

"Wait, you can feel it, too?" Rachel sat forward in her seat, leaning toward the space between the front row as she spoke. It decreased the amount of space between us. Drastically, the heat in my chest increased.

My body instinctively lurched to the right, pressing into the passenger door to escape it, to escape her. "Yes, and you're making it worse," I nodded once, before turning my head to give her a stern look.

Almost immediately, she sat back in her seat, releasing the pressure inside me. I could exhale deeply and not inhale warmth. "Sorry," she apologized, quietly.

I remained quiet. There was not much to say, but many things to think. In my head is where I remained until we arrived at Dick's apartment building. It wasn't my intention, but I was the first out of the car.

Dick stepped out on his side as I rounded the front of the car. I was almost to the sidewalk when I felt a wind against my face, the hairs at the nape of my neck standing up. The sensation immediately sent my hand up level with my head.

Just as my hand went up, something hard hit my open palm, and my fingers clamped down over Dick's car keys. My feet stood still as I looked at him questioningly, "Why are you giving me these?"

"Go ahead to your apartment and pack a bag—i'll pack mine and we'll meet you there," he answered.

"Alright."

I didn't like the odd feel of the dynamic, but I was glad to be getting away from Rachel. Anything to get the heat burning my chest to stop. That's what I told myself, driving to my apartment. Beverly's apartment. Mine.

Sometimes they felt like the same person. Sometimes it felt disgusting living as someone else. I didn't bother turning on the light when I walked into the apartment. The living room window was still open, letting in a breeze.

My eyes spotted Cerberus asleep in the chair as I passed through to the bedroom area. I grabbed the duffel from my closet and tossed it on the bed, then swiftly began to fill it with necessities. Moving around was nothing I wasn't accustomed to.

After Arkham, there was no settling anywhere. All I would need to take from any apartment in an emergency would be my clothes and my gear. I could pack my hood and boots beneath my other clothes in the duffel.

I owned nothing else of any importance. Every apartment comes fully furbished. There were no attachments—and that's how I wanted it. It was how I needed it.

Once I was packed, I changed my clothes to things that were plain and ultra-ordinary. Dark jeans, an old t-shirt, tennis shoes, and my Superman hoodie. A black ball cap hid my head casually. It was just normal enough not to be noticed.

My hand tugged the duffel's strap up onto my shoulder and I exited the apartment. Given my nondescript lifestyle these days, my mode of transportation was anything but flashy. Though, it wasn't a junker either.

Victor helped me set up this life as Beverly, and in the process pulled as many strings as he had to in order to get me something to drive. It happened to be an old, considerably beat up Mustang. It was parked in the parking garage below the building.

I pulled the keys from my pocket and unlocked the driver's side door. Just as I pulled it open, Dick's Porsche swerved into a parking spot on the passenger side of my Mustang. I tossed my duffel onto the passenger seat as Dick climbed out of the Porsche.

"Got what you need?" he asked, taking steps to round the side of the Mustang.

Nodding, I tossed him his keys over the hood. He caught them effortlessly as I said, "I'll just follow you guys. I'm not cramming into the Porsche with her."

"That's understandable," he nodded once, coming to stand just on the other side of the open driver's side door. There was silence between us for a moment. It felt as though I were meant to say something but, even if I were, I was lot as to what it might be.

So, instead, I gave another quiet nod and slid in behind the wheel of the Mustang. I pulled the door shut after me and immediately slid the key into the ignition. It was hard enough to look at his face and not see what I'd done. Specifically, how what I'd done made him look at me.

It was the only reflection in his once inviting eyes—I could not unsee it. Dick drove the Porsche and I drove the Mustang. Our two vehicles traveled through the night, only stopping at a roadside diner in Ohio once the sun was fully up.

Being awake all night was my specialty, so I remained unbothered. I stayed in my car while Dick and Rachel went in for a break from driving. The time alone was nice. The driving, however, was a bit annoying. But, once again, I told myself I was doing the right thing.

That doing the right thing was all that mattered. After all, Rachel was just a child. I was about her age when I began to experience all that my body could do. As I sat there in the car, my phone began to wail with vibration.

Sighing, I answered the incoming call, "What now, dipshit?"

"Morning to you, too," Victor grumbled on the other end of the line. "Just checking in. Any sign of him?"

"No, none that I've noticed. I don't think he'll come after me in the way you're thinking—he'll wait for me to come to him, it's more his style," I replied, almost monotone, keeping my eye on Dick and Rachel through the diner window.

"Will you?"

"Eventually."

Victor sighed heavily, "Jesus, Savannah."

I readjusted to lean back a bit in my chair, exhaling. "Relax, Grandpa. I'm a little busy right now to be throwing myself to slaughter," I assured, a bit sarcastically. "What can you tell me about his setup?"

There was a shuffle on the other end of the line. Most likely Victor moving around his office. I hadn't been there since I left Gotham. Ever since, we'd only been dealing over the phone. Never in person.

After a moment, Victor spoke again, "Soon as he got out, he made alliances with various crime families in the city. I've got inside intel that's saying he's partnered with an off-the-books weapons manufacturer to arm himself and the families. It looks like a take over in the making to me."

Closing my eyes, I threw my head back into the chair. He'd been in prison with plenty of time to make friends, connections on the inside. Now that he was out he had everything he needed to partner up with anyone necessary in order to make his plan happen.

Sending him to prison was the worst thing that could've happened, looking at the present. In the past, it was the only way to get him out of power—and it was what he deserved.

Well, what he truly deserved was death, but prison was the closest thing available at the time. I sighed heavily and righted myself in my seat, readjusting my hold on the phone, "Think Batsy knows about this?"

"Given their history, I'd say it's more than likely he's gotten a whiff of it by now."

"Great," I mumbled, vaguely irritated. My eyes shot up from the center of the steering wheel as movement caught them, and I saw Dick and Rachel exiting the diner. Normalizing my tone, I told Victor, "I've gotta go. Keep me updated."

Victor huffed a chuckle, "Yeah, sure thing, Boss."

I ended my side of the call and tossed the phone into the passenger seat, then I turned the key in the ignition to start up the engine. Dick glanced in my direction as he opened his car door, and I gave a nod to show I was ready, before he disappeared inside the vehicle.

Part of me thought that the apprehensive tension between us had nothing to do with what happened anymore, and everything to do with my own distancing, but I didn't follow up with that thought. It was too easy to believe the first option.

We stopped at a motel off the Interstate for the night. Under the pretense I would not be sleeping anyway, the three of us got two joining rooms. I dropped my duffel on the bed in the first room as Rachel moseyed into the second one.

Dick closed the door behind us all, and I could hear him putting his suitcases on the table somewhere behind me as I faced the bed. My fingers gently tugged the glasses from my face and placed them atop my duffel bag.

Sounds of foreign voices filtered in through the open doorway between the two rooms, and I knew Rachel was watching television. There was a touch to my lower back that was immediately followed by Dick stepping up at my side.

It surprised me, his closeness—but I didn't protest it. "Can we talk? Outside?" he spoke quietly, the words obviously only for me to hear.

I nodded once, and I followed him just outside the room, out onto the balcony walkway of the second floor. Originally, I'd assumed it wasn't far enough. But he didn't travel any farther than that. "What is it?" I asked, closing the door behind us.

"Are you okay?" he asked, his tone curious yet rhetorical. He knew what the answer was, but he was giving me a chance to explain. When I didn't answer, he asked something slightly different. "Are we okay?"

Loosely folding my arms across my chest, I replied, "That's not what you want to know."

Dick paused for a quiet moment, staring at me with the same expression—one that said he knew I was right, but was trying not to give in. Then after another moment one eye narrowed and he said what I knew he was going to, "Did you have to kill that guy?"

"Yes, I did."

"Why?"

"Because he would've kept coming. He would've hurt Rachel. One of us was going to kill him, Dick—it's better that it was me," I answered, calmly.

"Detroit Police already know about you, you've just made it worse! I had a gun- I could've-"

Irritated, I interrupted, "Killed him?"

Dick's mouth froze mid-sentence, not continuing it to prove me right. Once again he'd paused in thought, most likely trying to find a way to justify him being the one to do it rather than me—when we both knew it would be the same answer as it always is.

As usual, I would be told I was a murderer. A cold-blooded killer that only killed for satisfaction rather than heroics. To know he thought so low of me was a hurtful disappointment in and of itself. But to know that he would go so far to defend that narrative was downright offensive.

In his moment of pause, I felt bold enough to voice my frustration. "I did it to save that girl's life—you know, the girl you were willing to travel cross-country at a moment's notice to protect?" I spoke spitefully, dropping my hands to my sides in fists. "It was exactly what you would've done. Yet somehow it's wrong simply because it's me."

Dick sighed heavily through his nose, visibly frustrated, "You can't just kill people, Savannah. If you go back to what you were doing in Gotham, you'll lose whatever is left of you inside your bitchy exterior."

"You know what? Fuck you, Richard—I'm done with your holier-than-thou bullshit. I didn't ask for it and I sure as hell don't want it."

Washing my hands of the conversation, I turned on my heels and walked away. I followed the walkway until I reached the end of it. Odds were that if there was a way onto a rooftop, I would find it. It wasn't too hard with this building.

I simply climbed up onto the red railing of the walkway and hopped onto the fire escape that lined the side of the building. From there it was just a flight of metal stairs to reach the roof. My chest was almost heaving from the anger in my veins.

It was too much to sit still, so I paced. That only pacified me for a short time. Then I needed to sit, drop my head in my hands, and try to calm myself with deep breaths. My mind only fell into an abyss of conflicting thoughts.

Yes, Dick wanted to help preserve what was left of me. But I wasn't so sure there was any left to begin with. It wasn't his responsibility to police me. It wasn't his choice what I decided to do. Even in my spite's words, there was truth.

My father had groomed me to be perfect from a young age. When there was a function, charity event, or outing of some kind, I was there looking pretty to support the image of a perfect father-daughter duo. But, when I needed him, he was never there.

He was absent from the important parts of my life in the name of work. Yet I was still required to keep up that perfect image, to show my support for him no matter how fake it was.

I've been intimately familiar with the nature of hypocrites for most of my life. Having that pressure, that unreachable expectation once more only made me anxious from thoughts of my past—thoughts of the man I'd burned out of my heart.

I stayed on the roof for a long time. Long enough that I knew, by then, at least Rachel would be asleep. Having her out of the picture would help me say what I needed to without feeling like I needed to censor myself.

There was too much on my mind, my veins were too hot to keep silent any longer. I got up from my sitting position just after two o'clock in the morning. At least, that's what my cell phone clock said.

If he was sticking to his usual pattern, Dick would still be awake. So I hurried to the fire escape. The metal shrieked beneath my weight and the staircase jostled with my speed but I did not slow down. I had the courage. I needed to move swiftly or I would lose it forever.

So I speed-walked until I reached the right motel room. I threw my knuckles against the door before the rest of my body had caught up. My chest heaved with a mixture of exertion and adrenaline.

It was only a few moments before he pulled open the door. The action revealed Dick's tired eyes, his features worn in the shadows from the dim light inside. "I can't be what you want," I blurted, trying desperately to remain emboldened.

"What?" Dick asked, utterly confused.

"All this time, I've been walking on eggshells waiting for the other shoe to drop. Waiting to fuck up and do something you can never forgive me for," I explained, quickly but seriously. "I can't be…someone I'm not. If that means you can't love me, then I have to respect that. I'm sorry."

He looked at me seriously, like he set his eyes on me for the first time in years. The same look he'd given me after my stay in Arkham. Tears were burning my cheeks silently, breathing a bit exaggeratedly from the race of my heart.

Finally, after a moment of complete silence, he let go of the door to take a step outside. His silhouette joined mine in the misshapen overcast of a dying light bulb overhead, surprising me with warm palms flat against my icy cheeks.

"You will always be what I want," he spoke slowly, quietly.

My head tilted slightly as I looked up at him through blurred vision, "No. You want Anna. You love her. You've never wanted me—the one that kills people. That's never been you, Dick. That's why you left Gotham, for God's sake."

"I've been in love with you since we were fourteen. If killing murderers is who you are, then i'll learn to love that, too. I shouldn't have said what I said to you-"

"But you still said it, which means some part of you agrees with it," I pointed out.

"We'll figure this out, alright? We'll work through it. Just...don't give up on me yet. I'm not losing you again," he shook his head, his eyes drooping with a certain bitter-sweetness.

This was the most emotion I'd allowed myself to display in a couple of years. Always, I was at my most emotional when I was with him. Something about Dick Grayson broke through every wall I ever built, no matter the size. I could always open up to him.

Loosing a shuttering breath, I allowed my eyes to close for a moment. There was an enormous amount of guilt associated with the idea of forcing him to conform to my ideals in order to be with me. I couldn't be the thing that corrupted him.

But, then again, maybe I already had? After all, he'd gone through great lengths to remain close to me since my return to civilization, including memorizing details of another woman—my new identity as a civilian—just to keep me in his life with some kind of normalcy.

"Savannah, please look at me."

I forced my lids to lift, pushing out a fully formed tear drop onto my cheek. His thumb brush across my skin to swipe away the drop before it got far. "We'll work on it," he reiterated, trying to reassure me. "Together."

Exhaling, I gave a slow nod, "Alright."

My answer had been the pin which popped the balloon of desperation and anxiousness that was Dick Grayson. His shoulders instantly relaxed, tipping his head down to press his lips to my forehead.

I couldn't help but close my eyes upon feeling the warmth. I'd been on the roof too long. The icy night winds had frozen every inch of my body. Surprisingly, though, I was not yet shivering. "Stay with me tonight," Dick spoke quietly, touching his forehead to mine.

It had been a while since I shared sheets with another person in that way that the idea of it was almost completely foreign. And I wasn't sure I quite liked that. So, without much hesitation, I agreed to it.

I felt his skin shift against mine before I could feel the faintest brush on my lips. The contact was unexpected, and it lit a small flame in the pit of my stomach, creating a heat that warmed my cold body from the inside out.

My arms moved up around his neck, causing his hands to drop to my waist and slide around to my back. It pulled our chests together as our open mouths connected. Despite the bout of resentment i'd grown in my heart, there was nothing I could've done to pull myself away.

He offered what I'd craved—put rather simply, touch. I stopped relying on other people when they started leaving. My father could never look at me the same again. Barbara wanted to help me but she could not. All the people in my life I'd called 'friend' had come to know me as a murderer.

Aside from that, there was too much death in my life. My skin could show me things no human being should ever be able to see. When you have that power, that curse, you tend to steer clear of any form of human contact for fear of witnessing another end.

Having it after all this time was like a drug to me. I was a relapsing addict. It was not clear who had started our shuffling retreat into the room. All that I knew was that I needed it like I needed breath.

((skip to next note if you don't want to read the smut!))

Dick had pinned me against the door as soon as it was closed after our entrance, his lips roaming over the exposed skin of my neck and jaw. Sounds of pleasure escaped me as I tilted my head aside to allow him better access.

My fingers were quick in unbuttoning the thick folds of my jacket, and I arched off the door to wriggle the fabric from my shoulders. He lifted his head to remove his shirt from his body and I took the opportunity to do the same.

Our mouths were connected the second both articles of clothing were gone. We traveled away from the door. My jeans were easy to discard before the backs of Dick's knees hit the mattress and I gave his chest a small shove, causing him to fall backward onto the bed.

The bed springs bounced beneath his weight with a shriek. He looked up at me with irises full of lust as I climbed onto him, straddling his waist. My hands slid up his muscular abdomen to his chest, relishing the heat against my fingertips.

I leaned forward and caught his lips between mine, and his hands gripped my hips tightly. It was easy to feel his arousal with nothing but the cotton of my underwear against the front of his jeans. Thoughts entered my mind, things i'd never be able to unthink.

Peeling myself away, I sat upright, and my hands went straight to the bra clasp against my back. The only person I could touch without feeling wrong was Dick. I'd discovered that long ago. Though I did have a premonition concerning him, nothing else had transpired in that nature.

It gave me a place to retreat to, a place to hide. But it also gave me a much needed release. My fingertips unhooked my bra and the contraption was tossed away quickly. Dick's hands traveled up my body, a faint vibration left behind on my skin.

As his hands cupped my bare breasts, he sat upright as well, lips immediately connecting with my collar bones. Heat spread throughout my chest as he placed wet kisses all over the exposed skin.

My fingers hooked through the belt loops of his jeans to keep me anchored, leaning back to allow for space as his lips made contact with my left breast. His warm tongue slid across my skin and my whole body shuddered.

There was no hiding the fact that we hadn't been intimate for a while—and that was mostly thanks to me. But, when he touched me like that, it didn't feel like any time had passed. Every movement came with an unmistakable familiarity.

Warm waves of pleasure radiated through my body with his mouth on one breast and his hand on the other. I let my eyes close, my fingers tightening around his belt loops as I tipped my head back, releasing a moan straight from the pit of my stomach.

"Dick..." I was breathless. "I need more."

"Tell me what you want," he spoke against my skin.

Just the sound of his lustful whisperings drove me wild. I exhaled my reply, "Take me. Claim me. Make love to me. I'm yours."

He lifted his head, darkened orbs coming to settle on mine as I reopened them. "Jesus, Savannah," he spoke quietly, voice gently graveled. "I love you so fucking much."

"I don't believe you."

There was an immediate shift in the air's density. He knew exactly what I was doing—I could see it in his eyes. It was something I'd said to purposely goad him during one of the first times we'd slept together. Eventually, it became kind of an inside joke.

But I wanted to see if he'd remember—and also, to show him I still remember. His lips devoured mine passionately, hungrily as his arms encircled my torso, scooping me up and pulling me closer.

I moved my hands to his shoulders, gripping tightly to them as I was eaten alive. In a swift and simple maneuver, Dick lifted me and changed our positions, now pushing my back against the sheets.

He gave one last open-mouthed kiss before once again kissing down my chest, this time traveling past my breasts to my abdomen. The line of wet imprints on my skin drew a line all the way to the waistband of my underwear.

Dick sat back between my thighs and gripped the fabric with his fingertips, easing the clothing off my hips and down my legs. They were tossed away with the other forgotten clothes around the bed. Next, he worked quickly to unbuckle his belt.

My heart was beating the inside of my rib cage senseless in anticipation as I watched his every movement. I lay naked before him while he rid himself of his other garments, leaving nothing left to be removed for either of us.

Once he'd gotten rid of the clothes, he resumed his place on top of me. His body pressed against mine and our mouths melded together. I parted my legs a little more as his hand moved between our pelvises, adjusting to insert himself.

A bit slowly, he eased himself inside me, and neither of us could stifle our moaning. I hooked my legs around his waist, pulling him in deeper, as his hands found mine. Our fingers interlocked and he pushed them above my head, thrusting his hips in a slow pace.

"You're so beautiful," Dick mumbled against the skin of my neck. "God, you feel so good."

I was drowning in the pleasure that filled my veins, almost too much to see straight. My eyelids fluttered shut as I moaned, "Mm...more."

He eased into a faster pace, and I rolled my hips to match him. "How's that?" he grunted, his forehead against the side of my neck.

"So good...ah! So good...mm...fuck...fuck, fuck, fuck."

It would've been an embarrassment, my lack of control, if I hadn't known just how much it turned him on to hear my praise of his performance. The thrusts became deeper, a bit rougher, and I was practically writhing in ecstasy.

My stomach was full of knots—I could tell I was getting close. "Right there, baby, right there," I whimpered, almost ready to fall apart. "Mm...just like that."

"Shit, I'm almost there."

A solid thrust had my back arching off the bed, gasping, "Holy fuck!"

I couldn't see them, but I was sure my knuckles were as white as December snow. The knots in my stomach were coiling like a snake. I was going to orgasm. "I'm gonna cum," I moaned the words.

"Let go, Anna. Cum with me—cum with me now," his said, in between wet kisses to my neck.

My whole body was tensed rapidly, only to relax just as fast, ecstasy pulsating in waves of heat throughout my body as I orgasmed. I'd exclaimed his name as I hit my high, bringing him to his own quickly following.

He came through a string of obscenities that were muffled against my collar bone as his heat filled me. The room echoed the sounds of our ragged breathing, our chests heaving against each other as we laid there.

((resume reading here if skipped!))

Dick removed his hands from mine, instead moving them to my sides as he rested his head on my chest. I raked a hand back through his hair, the other resting on his slick shoulder blades, as I tried desperately to catch my breath.

"You believe me now?" Dick panted, sarcastically referring to my earlier comment.

Exhaling, I nodded, "Yeah, I believe you."

"I meant what I said. I want to work through this—I want to get past it. I just need some time. You know, I...I never wanted you to feel like you couldn't be yourself around me," he spoke quietly.

There was guilt layering his final words, a guilt I felt deep in my chest. My fingers gently slid through his dark hair before I tipped my head down, kissing his forehead. "I know," I whispered in reply.

"I call you Anna because I love you," he said, propping himself up on his forearms to see my face. There was a faint grin against his lips with his following addition. "Actually, I think 'Anna' and 'I love you' are synonymous at this point."

My hand fell from his hair to the side of his face, gently brushing the pad of my thumb along his lower lip, "I know that, too." The corners of my mouth tugged up into a soft smile. It faded with the thought that entered my mind.

It's never been as simple as saying you love someone. There's always other factors, always things that get in the way that neither of you can change. It disappointed me to remember my previous statement, that I would feel too guilty in tainting him in order to be with me.

The statement was still true. But it made sweet moments practically worthless. "What is it?" Dick asked, noticing the change in my expression. When I was hesitant to respond, he added, "Come on, talk to me. Isn't that what we're supposed to be doing, talking about things?"

"You've made it clear that you want no part in my way of justice. If we 'work on this', i'm not going to be the one changing, Dick. That means you'll have to change—and I don't want that. I don't want to force you to change who you are just to love me," I explained, honestly.

"Hey, if I change anything about myself, it's because I want it to change. It's on me. And maybe I don't want to be the kind of person that hurts you anyway? I don't have to approve of killing to not literally be a dick," he replied.

His words were serious, but something in me was too compromised at that point not to let a laugh escape. My bubbling laugh caused Dick to loose an airy chuckle. Smiling softly, his fingertips pushed the hair at the side of my face behind my ear, "Please forgive me."

"For what?

"Being a 'fucking asshole'."

"I forgive you," I nodded slowly, trying not to smile.

There was something boyish in the way he grinned. It reminded me of the fourteen year old he was when I first met him. We laid there together on the bed like that, holding each other—his head on my chest, my hand in his hair.

I didn't want to let him go. But, as a glance at the clock reminded me, it was too late into the night already. "You need to get some sleep," I told Dick.

He held me tighter, mumbling, "No I don't."

"You've got a lot of driving to do."

"So do you."

"Yes, but I don't sleep."

He groaned heavily, sighing as he propped himself back up on his elbows. Everything about his face screamed tiredness. For a moment he remained still, and I could tell he was thinking.

Then in a snap he was moving, rolling off of me to sit up. Taking the opportunity, I sat up as well, stretching out my arms and legs after being in one position for a long while. As I retracted my limbs from stretching, I felt warm lips on my shoulder.

Humming, I leaned into Dick as his arms slid around me, kissing up my neck. "You're gonna stay, right?" he whispered, being so close to my ear. "I want to wake up next to you this time."

I answered him with a breathy reply, "I'll stay."

He peeled away from me and instantly I felt too cold. For the sake of a less awkward morning, we put our clothes back on—to an extent—before sleeping. It was Dick's idea, so that we didn't have to explain anything to Rachel.

He crawled beneath the blanket and I followed suit, snuggling into his chest once he was comfortable. I could hear the solid beat of his heart thrumming against his rib cage. It felt safe, warm, and comfortable. His arms stayed around my frame the whole night through.